


Mend

by MamaMystique



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: F/M, I just really like this idea!, OCs - Freeform, Tumblr Prompt, the murder couple family, whoops this was supposed to be cute but then angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-05
Updated: 2014-07-05
Packaged: 2018-02-07 13:49:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1901385
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MamaMystique/pseuds/MamaMystique
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Please,” she had whispered, “please."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mend

**Author's Note:**

> Prompted on Tumblr as "Prompt with everyone's favorite murder couple babysitting for their neighbors in Italy"
> 
> And then I fell in love with this entire murder family.

“I want a turn!”

Hannibal stared down at the little girl perched on the stool next to him at the stove, crouched on her hands and knees, blonde hair slipping from her barrettes and green eyes wide with excitement. His eyes flickered to the granite-topped island, where Bedelia sat, watching closely. Wrapped in her arms was the girl’s twin, the same blonde hair curling around her ears, her head tucked against Bedelia’s chest. That was Lis, shy and thoughtful, who had taken to Hannibal’s companion almost immediately. Lierre, on the other hand, was curious and quick, and loved to be included in everything.

Bedelia nodded once, softly, so as not to disturb Lis from playing with her hair.

Hannibal carefully transferred the wooden spoon to Lierre’s eager hands, steadying the six-year-old as she stood and plunged the utensil into the sauce.

“Gently,” Bedelia called, smiling as Hannibal all but held Lierre around the waist to stop her from toppling over into the pot.

“Gently,” Lis mimicked at her sister, and Lierre stuck out her tongue.

“I can stir like a grown-up,” she insisted, and Hannibal set her feet back down on the stool.

“Careful,” he said with a small, uncertain smile, taking the top of the spoon and slowing Lierre’s pace. “You don’t want to stir too hard.”

“Why?”

“Because then the dish might be ruined.”

“Why?”

Hannibal turned again to Bedelia, somewhat lost for words. “I-” He stopped when he was facing her again, finding Bedelia gently kissing Lis’ forehead. How naturally this all came to her, he thought briefly. Then of course, it had been Bedelia who suggested this whole arrangement. She had found the twins playing alone in their inherited massive garden, neighbors from the house over the hill. Hannibal had thought their new residence isolated, private, but it had taken less than a week for Lis and Lierre to stumble upon them.

“This is our garden,” Lierre had said with about as much menace as a small girl could manage, her arm flung out protectively in front of Lis. “We play here, not you.”

“Where are your parents?”

“Dead,” Lis had whispered, and then fallen silent.

Bedelia brought them as far home as the crest of the hill that afternoon, back to their aunt and uncle who were not there then.

“They’re not our mom and dad,” Lierre explained in French. “But everyone thinks they are. But they’re not. They just watch us.”

“They don’t speak French like you,” Lis offered, a thrilled smile on her face as her hands tightened around Bedelia’s.

“They don’t even speak French,” Lierre echoed, exasperated. “Everyone’s mom should speak French.”

When Bedelia returned to him that night, she had nearly begged Hannibal to let her invite them to stay during the days. “Please,” she had whispered, “please. They’re alone there most of the day. Their aunt doesn’t come home until the evening. They don’t go to school, Hannibal, we could teach them-”

“Teach them what?” He had snapped. He had been fuming all day. What he wanted was nothing more than to lock their doors and move again. They looked too much like _her_ , too much, too much, and it was driving Hannibal insane. He would not accept a poor replica, and he certainly would not accept two. “How to kill? Have you forgotten why we are here? You are a murderer, Bedelia. The same as I. We do not take in strays. You and I will never teach them anything, and we will never see them again!”

“I just wanted…”

“You wanted to be selfish! You wanted something you know you could never have, not now, and not ever!” He had gone too far then, he knew. Though she stormed away under a guise of anger, he saw the tears welling in her eyes.

He had found her, hours later, weeping in the garden, a hand clutched over her stomach and clawing at the skin there. She had tried to hide from him then, but Hannibal had forced her reddened eyes to stare at him as he brought the truth he already suspected to the surface. Her face between his hands, she finally let him see her truly broken.

“I never could,” she choked out, “it was the only thing I ever wanted and I never could.”

He held her to his chest, and her breathing began to even. “I’m sorry,” she finished. “I’m so sorry. I was selfish, Hannibal, I was thinking of only me, and I forgot…I forgot about _her_ and what she meant to you, and I’m so sorry.”

“I apologize as well,” he murmured in her hair, and he meant it. He had not meant to ruin her, not in this way. This was a pain that lay too close to the core for Hannibal to touch, out of some form of understanding and respect. There were some things that must be left under the veil in which they hide. She was one of the few who knew about _her_ , and rarer still was one who respected the boundary of the subject. He must offer her the same courtesy.

“What a pair of fools we are.” Bedelia spoke after a moment.

“A fine pair of fools indeed,” he had laughed, and she smiled up at him then. He couldn’t resist kissing her.

When they parted, her eyes fell open, and he could almost see her brilliant mind begin to analyze herself. “I want to move on. I’ve been carrying this weight, I…I’ve let it hang over me all my life. I’ve let it affect everything in my life. What I wanted was…”

“A chance to mend?”

She nodded. “Closure. To experience it and know that I am still whole.”

When giggles erupted from the backyard garden the next day, Bedelia had frozen in place, her heart falling. Hannibal draped his hands across her shoulders, pressing a kiss to the back of her head as he stood behind her.

“Go,” he whispered. “Mend.”

She turned to him, her eyes searching for mocking or anger on his face, but finding only sadness. “This is something I cannot give you,” he spoke gently. “And if it is truly eating away at you like you say, this is something you need to move forward.”

“And the risk? If somehow we are found?”

“This is worth it. For you.”

“For us,” she said as she pressed her hand to his cheek. “I know it will be hard. Thank you.”

“For us.”

Hannibal watched Lis curl into Bedelia’s small frame, both of them smiling happily. He turned back to Lierre, who stood there watching him with eager eyes, trying to understand, curious and excited as the spoon dipped into the dish.

A chance. Not to fix, not to heal, but to mend some part of him that still hurt, even if for a fraction of a moment.

“Because the eggplant are very delicate,” he began. “They require care and gentleness. Otherwise they might fall apart, and break.”

Lierre began to stir slowly, gently. “Will they be sad if they break?”

“Perhaps. If you treat them nicely though, they will taste delicious.”

Lierre peered over the pot. “Sorry,” she whispered quietly to the eggplant. Her eyes turned to Hannibal, and a smile lit across her face. “They forgive me.” Suddenly, her hands abandoned the wooden spoon.

“What are you…”

Lierre’s hands reached out to him, to press to his cheeks, fingers splaying. A memory flashed across Hannibal’s mind, a sweet memory that stung so painfully his heart shattered inside. He remained still, trying to compose himself. As softly as she could, Lierre wiped a tear from his right eye he hadn’t known was there.

“Don’t be sad too,” she said worriedly.

“Don’t be sad!” Lis cried as she slipped from Bedelia’s arms to run to Lierre’s side and climb up atop the stool too.

“I’m not,” Hannibal said with a small smile as four little green eyes stared up at him. “I’m feeling much better.”

Lis giggled then, hugging her sister tightly. “I like them.”

“We like you,” Lierre said confidently. “You can play in our garden if you want. But we can’t tell anyone that we let you, or else they might try to come here too.”

“We’ll keep it a secret.” Bedelia spoke sweetly in French as she stood at Hannibal’s side.

“Promise?” The twins chirped back in French.

“Of course,” they both replied, and Bedelia’s hands folded with Hannibal’s, clutching tightly.

“Thank you,” Bedelia said to them as they left to beat their aunt and uncle home. “For everything.” As the girls ran up the hill, she kissed Hannibal, whispering her gratitude against his lips.

“This is dangerous Bedelia,” he spoke as he returned her kiss. “We should leave before this goes any further.”

“And when did danger ever stop you from what you wanted?” she said with a smile.

"When it threatens to consume me and drive me to act rashly."

Bedelia hummed knowingly then, but did not offer a reply. That same danger was breaking in on her as well.

They didn’t leave for many months.

And when a glimpse of them was caught again, a brief flash to be analyzed and turned over again and again by those who sought to chase them, a still frame to be pondered for weeks, months, and years into the future by millions of eyes, between Hannibal and Bedelia stood a pair of blonde-haired, green-eyed twin girls.

“We were theirs,” they would say someday. “We did not steal them. They were not ours. We were theirs.”

And that was the truth Lis and Lierre knew to be absolute.


End file.
